Disclaimer: I do not own Crash Bandicoot, nor the characters from it. I do not make money from the writing of this story. Crash Bandicoot and its respective characters are (c) to Naughty Dog and Sony. D'Enfer (c) R. L. Kinghorn.

Mrs Cortex, the voluptuous, femme fatale agent of Iceberg Labs, is feeling particularly frisky and won’t take no for an answer. [MF/Furry/Anthro/FemDom/OC/AU/WIP]

D’Enfer is a hard one to picture with words though I tried my hardest. She is an anthro with supernatural features though so think Tawna, black hair, succubus horns and tail with Jessica Rabbits figure and an Italian accent. That about sums her up.

D’Enfer Cortex was a far cry from what one would dub as a conventional wife. She didn’t do the little things like prepare elaborate homemade dinners or press suits and shirts, nor did she shop for groceries or make lunches. In many ways, she was only a wife by legal status. But then the relationship she shared with her husband of two years was far from what one would call conventional anyway. “Controversial” was a more appropriate term.

Never had D’Enfer known a husband to assign their other half dangerous tasks, varying in mortality rates. She’d done them all, from infiltrating high-security laboratories, to stealing intelligence on scientific prototypes in the field of world domination, to interrogations and assassinations. It’s not as if she went in unknowing to the danger. “Subject to death or otherwise relative ailments”, that’s what her contracts always had printed in their safety section.

But the missions weren’t all that would strike one as unconventional. D’Enfer hadn’t known a husband to blatantly use their wife as a meat shield either, holding them at gunpoint and bartering for their own life when their worst enemies came breaking the doors down looking for a fight. And she’d not known a wife to be starved of romantic acts one would expect marriages to be filled with. Cuddles, dates, gifts, kisses, sex. It wasn’t like she was unattractive either, oh lord no. Over six foot of voluptuous curves, a walking hourglass that turned heads and broke necks, all in a day’s work.

So what monster of a husband, I hear you ask, treated their marriage like some business operation and neglected their stunning wife on a criminal level?

Neo Cortex.

Oh yes, you heard correctly. Neo Cortex. Now the name in itself may not mean much but to those who knew him, Neo was the ilk of man who used and abused, charmed and scammed. A master conniver who, when he happened upon someone he couldn’t exploit with his wit, he shot them dead without a second thought on the matter. In all verity, if one were to look “mad scientist” up in the encyclopaedia, his deranged face would indisputably be plastered next to the entry. He was a narcissist, a high-functioning, psychopathic narcissist who was as inherently evil as he was totally insane.

And he was the love of D’Enfer’s life.

True, he wasn’t the kind of individual she’d ever envisioned herself with, and she suspected that she sure as hell wasn’t the kind of, er, woman he thought he’d be with. Until she’d come sauntering onto his scene years ago D’Enfer doubted he’d ever even thought about something like marriage or even the fairer sex at all. Neo had never been an affectionate man, never interested in anything with a heartbeat if it wasn’t under a scalpel, and thus, wasn’t a warm or involved husband.

Of course they had sex. They were married but it simply transpired rarely, much to D’Enfer’s discontent. There simply wasn’t the time on is part, and when there was there wasn’t the interest. His work was first and foremost and she knew that, understood that and appreciated that. She hadn’t a choice in the matter but to do so. So, D’Enfer had rolled with it, blithe and adaptable to his peculiar moods, the humanoid marsupial had attuned herself to his volatile temper.

He ruled the relationship. He was boss, she was the employee.

But tonight she didn’t feel like “rolling with it”. Tonight she had decided she was going to change that. She blamed her latest mission to Sweden. Putting a bullet through her target’s forehead had turned her on something vicious. Killing someone like that after the intense build up to his demise, made her tremble with desire. Oh the memory. She had squeezed her legs together, feeling the little bud of pleasure that lay between them throb and tingle and as she’d stood over his twitching body, creamy moisture had oozed from her sex and onto her thighs, making the fur slippery. Sending her on that mission, Cortex had brought this on himself.

She ran the ivory comb through her black curls and hummed softly, smiling at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. It had been far too long, so long that she had difficulty recalling the last time they’d slept together. Her appetite wasn’t going to be quelled so easily.

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